


Harnessing Gravity

by TiliaC0rdata



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Biting, Blow Jobs, Book holsters are fjucking sexy, Breathplay, Come Marking, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, D/s, Dom Essek Thelyss, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Face Slapping, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, I need a shower, Idk which one it is - you decide, Light BDSM, M/M, Magic Lube, Manhandling, Masturbation, Minor Angst, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Sex Magic, Soft boys playing rough, Spanking, Sub Caleb Widogast, Subspace, Use of Magic in BDSM, Verbal Humiliation, What Have I Done, a little tiny bit, mid-scene negotiations, this is my first smut fic - please be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiliaC0rdata/pseuds/TiliaC0rdata
Summary: “Human skin is a funny thing,” Essek muses and pinches hard on a fold where ass and thigh meet, drawing a weak whimper from Caleb’s throat. “It is so easy to see if you are in pain; it almost screams to the world how vulnerable you are. I bet this hurts. Are you ready to apologize?"It is a possible way out, but Caleb aches to continue, chasing the heady feeling of release that comes to him when he’s red and throbbing.“Fuck you,” he growls and braces for round two.“In due time,” Essek says, enjoyment clear in his voice. “I have just started breaking you in.”Caleb and Essek indulge in a new flavour of domination. Essek shows off his dunamantic skills and just how mean he can be.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 30
Kudos: 178





	Harnessing Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first smut fic. I am blushing furiously at what I've done. If I didn't tag something that I should have, please let me know!
> 
> I'd like to thank @FallingT for beta-ing with endless patience, putting up with my shyness and nervousness, encouraging me every step of the way and - once again - coming up with the title. <3
> 
> There are Zemnian and Drow glossaries at the end.
> 
> This is an established relationship. Assume everything has been negotiated and consented to at some point.

Essek takes a deep breath. He is acutely aware of the heat radiating from his cheeks and, now more than ever, he is grateful that his dark skin doesn’t betray his emotions easily. The fact that his ears are twitching as if he were a giddy child is embarrassing enough. He clears his throat and does his best to compose himself.

“And you are sure you would like that?” he asks, not quite making eye contact with his lover, taking time to admire his body instead. Caleb’s pale skin doesn’t hide anything. His cheeks are flushed pink, the colour slowly spreading down to his neck and chest, as he sits shirtless, their legs intertwined.

“Ja. Very sure.”

The nervous smile that spreads across his lips fills Essek’s chest with warmth.

“I cannot say I’m not tempted. You know that power play has always... appealed to me.” His ears twitch again, and he shakes his head to stop the movement. “But I need to be sure that it will be just as enjoyable for you.”

It’s not like they haven’t experimented before. They both enjoy all shades of gentle and rough, and they are no strangers to spicing things up. It was just days ago that they finally found the right flavour for an idea that they’d been entertaining for weeks: Caleb as Essek’s private language tutor, providing much needed firm discipline to his much older student. Their previous attempts had failed because any academic excuse _professor Widogast_ gave for Essek’s predicament insulted his pride too much to be enjoyable, pissing him off instead of riling him up. They found the solution by flipping the script – the professor would be in awe of his student’s intellectual prowess, which would give him even more incentive to push Essek to realize his full potential. In the end, Essek had as much fun being a cocky brat as Caleb did bringing him to his knees.

Earlier this evening, sitting together, their noses buried in books, they played their usual game of trying to break each other’s concentration - rubbing a foot up the other’s calf and thigh, undoing the top buttons of a shirt, fingers idly tracing abstract shapes on their own chest.

 _Technically,_ Caleb lost by speaking first, but the way his words made Essek’s mouth run dry could hardly be counted as victory. ‘ _You know, I’m tempted to let that cocky little shit win for once. Turn the tables, as it were.’_ The thought alone stirred something deep inside Essek’s gut, and he knew right then that he was done reading for the day. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. ‘ _The thing is, I don’t want to turn the tables on my dear professor,’_ he hummed, ‘ _after all, what authority would he hold over me if I bested him?’_ He wiggled an eyebrow at Caleb, who apparently had given the subject a lot of thought. ‘ _Who says we have to bring the professor into this? I’m sure you would enjoy tormenting a fellow student for a bit.’_ Essek couldn’t help a mischievous smile. ‘ _A poor helpless human at a Xhorhassian academy, perhaps?’_ ‘ _Watch it!_ Caleb warned, his voice low, but eager, a hint of a smile dancing on the corner of his lips. ‘ _Too far?’_ There was a beat of silence, Caleb not so much considering it as struggling to admit that no… ‘ _No, I think I like it.’_

Half an hour later, they are still here, sat even closer, both worked up from bouncing ideas around, salacious images filling their minds.

“It will be,” Caleb looks up at Essek from under his long lashes, and, though he blushes an even deeper shade of crimson, he holds his gaze. “I want you to _wreck_ me. I trust you.”

It is a strange feeling, being deeply touched and incredibly aroused at the same time. Caleb’s charm should be classified as a separate school of magic, he decides.

“Besides,” the redheaded wizard continues as he reaches out and runs his fingers gently along the drow’s ear, “you’re pretty when you’re mean.”

Essek’s ear twitches violently under the soft touch, and he squeezes his eyes shut, swearing to himself that were it anyone but Caleb, he would disintegrate them on the spot. But it _is_ Caleb, who gives a small chuckle and tickles the tip of his ear.

“Am I now?” Essek purrs and moves in close enough for their noses to touch.

“You are. I bet you were a cocky little shit to your peers as well.”

“Oh, I was. The worst of them all.”

“Show me,” Caleb whispers against Essek’s lips, then nips at the lower one and sinks into a lingering kiss.

* * *

As tantalizing as it was to plan the details of their little game – and as delectable as it was to release the built-up tension in a whole nine hells of a shag afterwards – when the time comes, Essek finds himself a bit more anxious than anticipated. He runs his restless fingers through Caleb’s hair, a physical focus in lieu of an arcane one, and follows a mental checklist of dos and don’ts, of all the beats they want to hit, of all the preparations he still needs to make.

“What are your words?”

Caleb blinks reassuringly, like a cat showing affection.

“Bright if I want to keep going. Dim if I need to pause. Dark if I want everything to stop.”

 _Check_.

“And if you can’t speak?”

“Two taps on your thigh to pause, three to stop.”

 _Check._ Normally, they use hand squeezes – once to pause, twice to stop – but this time, holding hands would not fit the scene at all. Essek was willing to overlook that, and he told Caleb as much, but the redhead insisted he’d remember, and of course he remembered, it’s _Caleb_.

“Don’t worry, ja? I have a good memory, you know.”

There is confidence in his smile, and trust, so much that some of the nervous energy leaves Essek’s body, his shoulders relaxing.

“Doesn’t hurt to double check,” he says, pecking Caleb’s cheek in a butterfly kiss. Caleb smiles, but soon his bright blue eyes focus, studying Essek with a hint of concern.

“What about you? Are you sure you won’t get confused?”

Essek catches himself in the middle of a dismissive huff. He was _just_ quizzing Caleb on things he _obviously_ couldn’t have forgotten. He owes him adequate reassurance at the very least.

“You _do_ have a good memory, chath solen,” he says, brushing a stray wisp of hair from Caleb’s forehead, “so you might remember that I fancy myself an intelligent man. You can trust me to understand a system which consists of five elements, wouldn’t you agree?”

Caleb exhales a quiet little laugh.

“Ja. You’re right.”

Essek kisses him fondly on the forehead, then lifts his chin to look into his eyes.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“Ja _._ Very much.”

Caleb’s pupils turn lust-blown, his face showing nothing but burning desire and eagerness. Essek flashes him a cheeky grin.

“Okay then. Now go, make yourself even more ravishing, if that is even possible. I still have some things to prepare.”

He watches Caleb get off the bed and head for the door, then pause and turn to look at him again.

“Essek?”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“I have… I have just thought of another thing…” Caleb mumbles, his eyes fixing the floor, suddenly unable to meet Essek’s gaze, “that I _don’t_ want you to do.”

Instantly focused and attentive, Essek nods.

“Of course. What is it?”

“Don’t… Don’t make fun of my cat.”

It takes all of his self-control not to laugh, but Caleb is clearly serious, so he simply smiles and closes the distance between them to kiss his forehead again.

“Noted.”

* * *

There is, of course, a limit to how realistic they want to be. It’s not a good idea for Caleb to think too much about… _before_. Still, the idea is to evoke a Zemnian look, and even if the clothes will be done away with quickly, he has put thought into them. He knows his form-fitting breeches will attract Essek’s gaze, and he’s made sure his hair is pulled into a tight, neat ponytail – he likes a good hair pull, and this will hopefully give Essek some ideas. He chose an off-white shirt to go with a maroon jacket, which partially obscures his book holsters. He wasn’t thrilled to bring his spell book into the scene at first, a myriad of ways it could get damaged flashing before his eyes, but Essek assured him that nothing bad would happen to it, and that it was a necessary piece of the puzzle. He takes one last look in the mirror, and he has to admit he looks good. Perfect for Essek to have his wicked way with.

It’s not often in their games that the submissive enters the scene second. Cocky student Essek always awaits professor Widogast at the study, Sir Thelyss has his squire march into the house a few paces ahead (or drags him in by the ear if he’s bratty), and most often they have each other wait in the bedroom. It feels strangely vulnerable to be the one who decides when the scene of his submission will begin, to be forced to make the final step himself, and Caleb can’t help but slow down his pace as he approaches Essek’s study. He is excited, anxious to begin, but the quiet calm of the staircase is difficult to leave behind, knowing how intense the rest of the night is going to be. _You are just here to use the library,_ he reminds himself with a tiny smile, then schools his features, lifts his chin up and enters the room.

He takes some satisfaction in acting his part, giving Essek a fleeting glance as he heads towards the bookshelves with a look of smug indifference on his face. He makes a show of taking his jacket off facing away from Essek, giving him a chance to take in the hint of his freckled neck, the line of his back, the curve of his ass. He busies himself browsing the shelves, noticing the changes in the usual order of books as he looks over the spines and… _oh_ , _du kleines Arschloch!_

“Why, look what the bugbear spat out! What are you looking at, Widogast?”

All of the books in his direct line of sight have been replaced by smut. He can hear Essek getting closer, and he _knows_ it’s just pretend, but he still blushes at the thought of being caught. _Well played, Thelyss._

“Really, human? _Sin and Sinuous_? Such a base interest for a supposed practitioner of the arcane.”

He keeps quiet, feeling his ears burn, and promises himself that professor Widogast will catch Essek reading this exact book next time.

“I honestly don’t understand why they let imperial cattle use our libraries,” Essek huffs, and Caleb finally finds his voice.

“Perhaps then, your understanding is lacking,” he says in mock concern, turning to look the drow in the eye. “Fortunately, this is an institution of learning, so there might still be hope for you.”

There is a fiery flicker in Essek’s eye, and Caleb smiles, satisfied. The game is on.

“You are mighty confident for a peasant hailing from the proud land of beans and potatoes.”

There is disdain in Essek’s voice that Caleb would love to turn into begging, but tonight is different. This time this haughty prick will have power over him, and the mere thought leaves Caleb slightly breathless.

“Tell me,” the drow continues, a vicious smile gracing his lips, “what did you have to sell to afford a spell book? Honestly, I doubt selling all your possessions would have been enough. Perhaps you paid with your ass?”

“You seem to have experience in the matter,” Caleb retorts, giving him his best sarcastic look. “Is that a recommendation?”

Essek huffs a dismissive laugh and glides closer, his eyes piercing straight through Caleb.

“You are awfully flushed, humie. Like what you see?”

 _Oh, I do,_ he thinks, drinking in the vision that is Essek, his dark skin smooth and glowing, punctuated by the silvery white curls falling softly onto his brow, and by the brilliant gold of his eyes and the intricate jewellery adorning his ears. Lines of shimmering green arch over his long white lashes, like a refrain of his emerald tunic bestrewn with silver embroidery. Caleb’s eyes follow the deep neckline revealing plains of smooth skin, but it’s the lack of sleeves that he finds distinctly promising.

“Ask me nicely, and I might actually let you put your skills to use. A poor little Empire boy could probably use some protection in a foreign land. Otherwise, who knows what might happen.”

They are standing so close now, breathing the same air, and it takes equal amounts of restraint to stop himself from kissing and slapping the drow’s beautiful face.

“How nice of you,” he says, holding Essek’s gaze. “I’ll make sure to find you if I’m ever desperate enough to seek the company of a Crick eunuch.”

His back slams into the shelves with a dull thump, leaving him breathless for a flash, Essek’s fingers wrapped around his collar in a vice-like grip. The drow floats higher, looking down at him with a feral gleam in his eye.

“What was that?” he all but whispers, but there is no missing the threat in his voice.

Caleb sets his jaw. “You heard me.”

“You better watch your mouth, Empire scum. I am very good at what I do, and you do not want to find that out first-hand.”

“ _Likewise_.”

Essek’s eyes narrow and he hisses something, an unmistakable vibration of the arcane enveloping them both. Caleb’s head spins, and he finds himself heavy in an unnatural direction, his body pinned to the shelves behind him. Essek’s hot breath caresses his ear with a whisper.

“Let’s see how tough you are without your spell book.”

Caleb’s mouth opens in wordless shock, his eyes shooting wide open, and he pushes against the arcane gravity, but it takes all of his strength just to move a finger. He watches Essek unfasten the buckle of his holster, retrieve the tome, and it is gone in a sparkling flash with just a subtle movement of his wrist.

“Oh, if you could see the look on your face!” he says, his voice almost sweet, soft fingers brushing Caleb’s chin. “Don’t you worry, you can get it back. You just need to apologize properly.”

“Or I can dispel this and burn your ass to a crisp,” Caleb all but growls.

“Well, well, still fighting, are we? I _dare_ you to dispel my magic, little wizard. I am a _prodigy_ of dunamancy.”

“Every spell has a finite duration. Once you are tapped out, I will make you regret this.”

With a tug at his hair that has Caleb hissing, Essek exposes his throat and trails his finger over it, scratching the pale skin.

“You are in no position to make threats. Besides, if you attack me, I will make sure you are expelled and banned from accessing the Marble Tomes or _any_ library in Xhorhas. Not to mention, if you _somehow_ managed to harm me, there would be severe consequences. Unlike you, I am not a peasant, and there are strings I can pull whenever I please.”

Under the rough touch and Essek’s eyes staring right into his soul, Caleb feels some of the fight leave him, a resigned flavour of submission slowly seeping into the corners of his mind.

“There you go. You can be reasonable after all,” Essek smiles, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Now, for the apology. I want you naked and on the ground.”

Caleb breathes through his teeth and says nothing, processing Essek’s words. He keeps silent  
for a while and hears a whisper, soft and familiar.

“Light?”

Turning his head with some difficulty, he kisses the dark cheek and whispers back.

“Bright.”

Essek nods and pulls away, his face cold again, the tenderness of the whisper nowhere to be found.

“I am going to release you now, and I strongly recommend reasonable behaviour. That includes stripping and kneeling down before me.”

“And…” Caleb starts, a tremble in his voice. “And you will return my spell book.”

“Once I am satisfied, yes.”

Caleb closes his eyes and nods, and the gravitational pull on his body returns to normal, as he drops to his feet, his skin tingling at the rush of blood. He pulls off the empty harness, then unbuttons his shirt slowly, fingers trembling with anticipation. It must look like a sign of fear because Essek speaks again, his voice slightly warmer than before.

“Now, now, there is no reason to be afraid, little Empire boy.”

Their eyes meet and there is a hint of concern on Essek’s face, a question hanging in the air.

“Indeed. Which is why I am not afraid of you,” he answers, half as part of the scene, half as reassurance, kicking his boots under the nearby desk.

“Good. Playing with weaklings bores me.”

Caleb swallows hard and pulls off his britches, then goes down to his knees. He feels a tug at his ponytail as Essek tuts his tongue.

“I said _naked_ , Widogast. Don’t make me tell you again.”

With a huff, Caleb rises to his feet and takes off his smallclothes, his half-hard cock now on full display. A wicked grin spreads over Essek’s face.

“Down dog.”

Sending him his best murderous look, Caleb sinks back to his knees.

“What do you want from me now?”

“A sincere, heartfelt apology. And I’m curious if you will still think it wise to call me a eunuch after you spend some time choking on my cock.”

“Fuck you, Thelyss!” Caleb spits, but Essek’s grin just widens.

“That is the idea.”

He circles Caleb, inspecting him methodically.

“There is something missing,” he muses, eyes narrowing, and reaches for the discarded harness. “Perfect. Imperial dog on a leash. Put it on.”

Caleb waits a beat, swallowing hard, then slowly puts on the leather straps. He stifles a moan as they rub against his naked skin.

“I must admit you look good like this. Maybe I should keep you as a pet?”

Caleb laughs at that, a sassy reply forming on his tongue, too tempting to hold back.

“You fuck your pets?”

There is a _crack_ , and soon a delicious heat blooms on his cheek. His exhale resembles a purr, deep in his chest, and Essek bends to grab his jaw firmly, fingers sinking into his stinging flesh.

“Let me make something abundantly clear. You no longer get to decide what comes in and out of your dirty mouth. So be quiet, or I will make you cry.”

“Do your worst, Crick.”

There is another crack, as Essek backhands him, evening out the colours on his face. Caleb blinks, massaging his jaw, and suddenly he feels light, the pressure of his knees against the floor fading away amidst a wave of energy. Before he has the chance to recognize the spell, Essek lifts him effortlessly off the floor, one hand grasping the leather straps on his back, the other grabbing his hair. Neither man could be described as strong, and to be manhandled like that by the slender, almost delicate mage is an entirely new thrill. For a second time this evening air escapes Caleb’s chest, as his belly hits the desk.

“Did you like that? Graviturgy. If you stop running your mouth, you might get the honour of actually learning the basics one day – a cantrip or two. For now, you can enjoy the effects .”

As flattened as he already is against the wooden surface, Caleb’s body presses deeper into it, as if sinking into it, melding with it. Essek’s hands leave him, but he cannot lift himself, the arcane force leaden on top of his back and limbs.

“Light?” comes the dispassionate question and Caleb replies in earnest.

“So _fucking_ bright…”

He doesn’t see Essek, but he intuits a nod of acknowledgement.

“You are going to pay for calling me a Crick.”

With only that as a preamble, a heavy swat lands on Caleb’s bare ass. He always finds it hard at first to accept the sounds he makes. Way back when this was all new, he was self-conscious even about a gasp or moan, biting into his fist as Essek sucked his cock. But acknowledging that those yelps, those whines are coming from _his_ mouth when Essek spanks him, that it is _him_ , the arcane scholar carrying on like this, hasn’t gotten easier – he has simply learned that he loves the embarrassment of it. He feels like curling in on himself at the first pained cry, and his cock twitches, echoed by a moan. Essek chuckles low in his throat.

“That was quite a sound! How many people do you think just heard you, Widogast?”

His voice drips with smug amusement, and Caleb wishes he could catch that smirk into a hungry kiss and bite down on Essek’s soft lower lip. Instead, he gives a strangled gasp as the drow hits him again.

“And do you know what the best part is? _If_ someone decides to come here and check what is happening, absolutely _no one_ will try to stop me. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Even if Caleb had it in him to form a coherent sentence, he wouldn’t have time to bite back, as hard swats rain all over his ass and thighs, making him whine, whimper, _keen_ , his body powerless to struggle. Another perk of getting dominated by a graviturgist – as ridiculous as it would be for Essek to choose physical attacks over the arcane in battle, his control over the forces between their bodies helps him land a wicked mean slap.

It takes Caleb a second to realize that the onslaught has stopped, although he doesn’t doubt it is only a temporary respite. He would jump at Essek’s soft touch if he could, but his muscles just spasm pointlessly instead. The soft hand rests at the small of his back, then trails over his warmed cheeks and thighs.

“Human skin is a funny thing,” Essek muses and pinches hard on a fold where ass and thigh meet, drawing a weak whimper from Caleb’s throat. “It is so easy to see if you are in pain; it almost screams to the world how vulnerable you are. I bet this hurts. Are you ready to apologize?”

It is a possible way out, but Caleb _aches_ to continue, chasing the heady feeling of release that comes to him when he’s red and throbbing.

“Fuck you,” he growls and braces for round two.

“In due time,” Essek says, enjoyment clear in his voice. “I have just started breaking you in.”

He is prepared, so the next two swats are echoed only by a low grunt, but none follow.

“Say my name.”

Caleb opens his mouth to do just that, and there is a slap to his thigh that turns what would have been a low rasp into a loud yelp.

“E-e-SSEK!”

He hears a thoughtful tut of the drow’s tongue.

“I have a better idea. You can use my title. It is only a matter of time before I receive it officially, so I might as well get used to the sound.”

There is a tug at Caleb’s leather harness.

“You will address me as Shadowhand.”

 _Less talking, more spanking_ , Caleb begs silently and allows himself a bit of sass.

“Are you about to join a shadow puppet theatre?”

He manages to take three swats simply hissing through his teeth, but soon Essek picks up the pace again and Caleb slowly loses himself in a blur of heat and pain, the sounds of skin on skin impact mixing with his own vocal appreciation, gradually melding into one single string of moans and breathy whines. He can feel sweat gathering on his skin, and the desperate throbbing of his leaking cock. It should not feel this good, this freeing, to be held down and struck, but it does, his mind so flooded with sensation that he loses count faced with the maddening rhythm, his body going limp against the desk, his vision blurry and soft. That’s when Essek stops again.

“Who am I?” he asks, raking his nails across Caleb’s blazing skin.

“The-ah!… Shadowhand…”

“Does it sound funny to you?”

“N-no…”

“Do you want to call me a Crick again?” he punctuates the word ‘crick’ with a matching crack.

“No!”

“No – what?” _Crack!_

“No, Shadowhand!”

Caleb is panting now, straining for a deeper breath and only in the farthest corners of his mind does he worry about the lack of verbal response. It’s the tap against his aching cock that gets his full attention.

“You are enjoying this, you pathetic worm.”

Fittingly enough, Caleb wants to squirm, to writhe, to hide and, most of all, to get some friction, any friction at all.

“I heard imperial sluts were easy, but I didn’t know that all it took was to put one of you in your place.”

He doesn’t have it in him to sass back. He just waits, revelling in the heat radiating from his abused flesh. Essek runs his finger down the underside of his cock, and he gasps a broken little breath, which turns into the neediest moan.

“I should warn you, that I will start all over again if you come.”

“Y-yes, Shadowhand.”

“Would you look at that! It seems you have found your manners, Widogast.”

He tries to confirm again, but his words come out slurred, all melding into one string of sounds. He waits, but Essek seems to have let it slide.

“Then it seems fitting that you should thank me.”

“Th-thank you, Shadowhand.”

 _Tsk-tsk._ “What for?”

“For… teaching me manners?”

The fingers on his cock squeeze and he screws his eyes shut, focusing as hard as he can.

“I need a better answer.”

“Thank you for putting me in my place.”

The fingers move, maddeningly slow, towards the leaking head and rub a languid, torturous circle that makes Caleb’s skin feel aflame.

“Better. Not quite there yet. You need to be more specific. And descriptive.”

There is still a tiny voice in Caleb’s head which _screams_ at the indignity of it all, but it is lost beneath the waves of sensations that overwhelm his mind.

“Thank you, Shadowhand, for bending me over and spanking my bare ass until I’ve remembered my manners and my place.”

There is a shaky, breathy sound, and Caleb grins to himself with the satisfaction of knowing Essek is probably straining in his breeches too, and that his words _clearly_ had a powerful effect on him.

“You are most welcome. You will get the chance to apologize for your rudeness now, but I am in a generous mood today. I will allow you some pleasure as well, and who knows, if you do an exceptional job of your apology, you might actually get to come.”

“Thank you, Shadowhand.”

There is a fizz of dispelled arcane energy in the air, and the weight lifts off of Caleb’s back. It’s a tingly, dizzying sensation, and he is grateful for the support of hard wood under his chest; he wouldn’t trust his legs to hold him up just yet.

He feels an absence where Essek was at his side, but his mind is too foggy to feel a surge of panic before he is back, towering over him.

“Climb onto the desk, Zemnian,” he prompts with a light smack to his cheek which sends electricity up Caleb’s spine.

It takes him a while, his legs _just_ waking up, and his arms stiff from their previous rigid position. Frozen in mid-crawl, he lifts his head and waits for instructions.

“Work yourself open. I’ll wait.”

He feels the cold touch of glass in his palm. With a few blinks, the bleariness of his vision subsides to reveal a vial. A gift of enchanted oil does _not_ fit the tone of the scene, but he is not about to complain. He doesn’t ask what it does; he trusts that Essek has tested it, and they both love the element of surprise.

Still on all-fours and facing the drow, he slicks his fingers with the contents of the vial. It’s colourless and odourless, but more viscous than what he’s used before. He reaches around and rubs the ring of muscle, relaxing into the touch. He closes his eyes as he slowly pushes one finger in, a choked little sound escaping his lips.

“Be careful not to come, or I will punish you again. I doubt you would enjoy it this time.”

Essek’s words are no help at all, sending a shiver down Caleb’s spine and making him clench involuntarily. He is also wrong – Caleb is a glutton for punishment, and the only reason why he does his best to obey, is that he fears he wouldn’t have the energy to continue after another round, hells, he might even come from the spanking alone. He wouldn’t mind that terribly, but when there is still so much fun ahead…

He works another finger in, his full body shuddering, and he catches himself as his elbow threatens to buckle under his weight. He _feels_ Essek’s worried look and whispers a breathless _‘bright’_. There is a beat of silence, as he takes several deep breaths to refocus, and then a… _flap?_ Yes, a flap, the unmistakable sound of pages turning. _Is he_ reading _right now?!_ Caleb looks up in disbelief and his jaw drops. He isn’t so much reading as perusing, idly flipping through the pages of Caleb’s spell book, oh, does that cheeky bastard know how to push his buttons! Were it anyone else, were he really in this predicament, he would leap off the desk and wrestle his book out of the tormentor’s grasp, by means arcane or physical, consequences be damned! Stealing from him, blackmailing him, then flaunting his stolen possessions and not even sparing a look as he works himself open at his orders! The sources of frustration blend together, despite the fact that only the last one is very _real_ to Caleb, the others just pretend. They all get a rise out of him, make his cheeks turn scarlet, and it feels so unfair, so undignified, and it stirs something deep in his gut. He wanted the cocky bastard to win for once, and he got his wish. It is an affront to logic that he loves it so much.

“My apologies, didn’t mean to neglect you, Widogast,” Essek’s voice is a low tease as the book disappears in the pocket dimension again. “You have all of my attention now. Sadly, I haven’t found anything of interest in your little book.”

Caleb can’t find the strength to growl, and simply breathes deeply, his eyes piercing Essek with a fiery stare, as he comes closer and smooths a hand over Caleb’s bare back, as if he were a skittish horse.

“Let’s see if you’ve done a decent enough job.”

There is a cool hand on Caleb’s wrist, and Caleb grunts at the emptiness when Essek pulls his fingers out from his hole. He hiccups as two cool digits slip in their place, and swears internally that he is going to get Essek back for “accidentally” stroking against his prostate as he fights the aching desire and breathes through it.

“I think this will suffice. You truly make a fine toy, Zemnian. I am going to show you one of mine.”

It is now that Caleb notices an object in Essek’s hand – a smooth crystalline rosebud.

“Are you curious?” Essek asks, and there is a satisfaction in his voice that doesn’t sound like the smug persona he’s embodying for the night. No, this is unmistakably Essek, proud of himself and giddy to show off what he’s found… or maybe created? Caleb nods and is rewarded with a smile.

“You are about to find out for yourself.”

And with that there is pressure against his entrance, and it twitches, grasping at the crystal. It comes in smoothly, much like the glass toy they have used before, and soon the friction stops. Essek whispers an incantation and the flower turns softer, more pliant, each petal of the rosebud moving and brushing against sensitive flesh. Caleb keens, his jaw slack and his knees wobbly, and the petals keep opening ever so slightly, drawing little shudders from his body.

“Are you grateful?”

Caleb nods fervently, overwhelmed by sensation, tempted to throw his arms around Essek, pull him into a kiss and take him on the desk. A tug at his hair reminds him of what is happening and brings him back to a place where words exist.

“Yes, Shadowhand.”

“Good. Then it’s time you got on your knees.”

* * *

The pleasure borders on torture as Caleb’s soft warm reverent mouth envelops Essek’s throbbing cock, and his gifted attentive tongue works its own particular magic. He looks at him with glassy eyes, pliant, but conscious – Essek made sure of that by asking Caleb to give him the time, which he did, seconds included – expectant and oh, so eager.

The position of power is intoxicating, with him still fully clothed, except for his cock, which he’d freed from the confines of his breeches and sheathed in Caleb’s mouth. It’s almost hypnotic, meditative, watching Caleb stark naked, framed only by a scarce web of leather straps, giving in readily into easy obedience.

It takes all of Essek’s self-control to maintain his calm façade. He steadies his breath and digs his nails into his palm.

“You know,” he starts, his voice just a little breathy, “I heard that Empire sluts were good at this. I guess there is an exception to every rule.”

He makes a show of lazily looking over his nails and fixing his hair when he feels, he _knows_ something is wrong. The naked man before him feels tense and stiff, and there is a tremble to his lip that wasn’t there before. He looks down and meets Caleb’s eyes, now welling with unshed tears, a panicked expression on his face. He waits for a signal on his thigh, but nothing comes, so he instinctively reaches out towards him, and Caleb grabs his palm, squeezing it twice. He immediately pulls out of Caleb’s mouth and drops to his knees, cradling his lover’s face in his palms.

“Ssin’urn, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?”

Caleb lip quivers, his breath shaky and quickened.

“I was _really_ trying,” he musters, then breaks into a sob, tears finally marking his freckled cheeks.

“Oh by the Luxon, Cay, ssinssrig, you were doing amazing! I was _supposed_ to…” he stops himself – now is _not_ the time for logical explanations. “What do you need, darling? Do you need me to take the toy out?”

“No, it’s…” he looks hesitant, but makes an effort to speak. “I… Hold me?”

That last part is almost a squeak and it makes Essek’s chest ache in the worst way.

“Of course, come here.”

He sits on the floor and gathers Caleb into his arms, threading his fingers through his hair, as the human audibly fights the need to cry.

“Let it out if you need to. It’s okay, we can take a break.”

He expects the floodgates to open, but Caleb just sinks deeper into his embrace, his arms shaking, as he not so much cries as releases shaky breaths over and over again. Sniffling lightly, he nuzzles into the crook of Essek’s neck.

“There you go, breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

It takes a moment of modelling deep inhales and exhales, but finally Caleb’s breath settles, and he relaxes, leaning heavily against Essek’s chest. A quiet minute passes before he lifts his head and wipes at his face with his wrist.

“I um… sorry about that. It took me by surprise.”

“Me too!” Essek lets out a nervous laugh, then presses his lips to Caleb’s hair. “It’s alright, ssin’urn. Can you tell me what happened?”

There is a pause, but Caleb’s body still feels pliant and soft, so Essek waits without further coaxing.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, looking up at Essek, his voice still thick and wet. “Apparently you antagonizing me is one thing, but disapproval hits different.”

“You know that I was just pretending, right? And it took _a lot_ of effort! I practically melted as soon as you started!”

A timid smile plays on the corner of Caleb’s lips.

“I know. I know it’s just pretend. I don’t know why I reacted this way, I’m sorry…”

“No, no, no!” Essek cuts him off, cursing internally – _feelings, not logic, focus mal’ai!_ He curls a finger under Caleb’s chin and runs his thumb gently along his jaw. “It didn’t feel right, I understand. I’m glad you told me.”

“Ja, I um…” Caleb all but whispers, blushing prettily. “I guess I really want you to enjoy what I’m doing.”

“Oh, believe me, I do. The arcane and rhetoric aren’t the only arts you are _particularly_ gifted at.”

Caleb looks down, blushing even harder, a beautiful smile spreading on his lips. He sinks back into his embrace, and Essek is quick to press gentle kisses to his hair and rub comforting circles on his back. When he pulls away, he gives Essek a disarming look through his impossibly long lashes.

“Well then, if you enjoyed what I was doing, would you like to get back to it?”

Essek smiles at that, but takes the time to study Caleb’s face.

“And you are sure you are okay to continue?”

He half-expects a flippant answer, a blanket reassurance, but he is happy to see Caleb pause and think.

“Ja. I feel fine.”

“Does anything hurt more than you like? I have salves ready.”

“No, no, it’s fine. If anything, it has all faded a bit,” he complains, scrunching his nose adorably, and Essek can’t help but kiss it. “I’m alright, Schatz.”

“I’m happy to hear it. But I believe we should make some changes.”

Caleb looks thoughtful for a bit and nods.

“I suppose. But I still want you to be mean and smug. It was… I enjoyed it. A lot.”

“Oh, I can still be a cocky shit without pretending not to enjoy your efforts. If anything, that will make my job _much_ easier, believe me!”

Caleb smiles and trails his fingers over Essek’s chest, his belly, his thighs… _Vith!_ A cold grip clenches Essek’s chest once again.

“Wait, what happened? Why didn’t you tap out? You looked like you froze.”

Caleb’s smile fades, and he averts his eyes, suddenly fascinated by his own palms.

“I… you could say that. I was trying to will myself to continue and to feel better,” he sighs. “And when I realized I was close to tears, I panicked and froze, like you said. I guess touching your hand shook me out of it.”

Essek frowns. Caleb always aims to please, often denying himself in the process, but this is entirely too much.

“We have talked about this, ssinssrig, if you aren’t having fun, I’m not having fun either.”

“I know. I guess I hoped I would somehow _start_ having fun again if I just waited it out. I’m sorry.”

He still hasn’t looked up, and Essek’s gut sinks. This is something they need to have a conversation about. But it’s going to be a long one, possibly a difficult one, and if they do it now, they can kiss the rest of the night’s plans goodbye. He pulls Caleb in close and lifts his chin to steal a kiss, then another and another. He smiles.

“Well, I suppose you’ve already got spanked today, so I’ll let it slide,” he winks, and enjoys the rosy hue spreading across Caleb’s face again. “But seriously, promise you will let me know as soon as something is wrong.”

“I promise,” he says and touches his forehead to Essek’s.

“Danke schön,” Essek tries, his accent wonky, successfully making Caleb laugh.

“Tsk, tsk, since when does the mighty Shadowhand speak Zemnian? I thought he would only speak the Bright Queen’s language, if he could help it,” he flashes a cheeky grin and moves to straddle Essek’s lap.

“I gather you are still in the mood to play, then?”

“Ja, very much so-ah” Caleb gasps as Essek kisses down his neck, raking his nails over his reddened ass.

* * *

“We will go slow. You can just hold my cock in your mouth and make sure you feel comfortable. I won’t be mean until you start. Alright?”

Caleb nods. He is on his knees again, sobered up, but calm and eager for more, the flower toy brushing against sensitive flesh with his every move, his ass still a little stingy and pleasantly warm. His cock is half-hard, woken up by Essek’s caresses, and it twitches with renewed interest as he kneads his own cheeks, the sensation bringing some of his previous frame of mind back. Essek chuckles.

“Do you want me to take care of that for you?” he asks fondly with a mischievous smile, and Caleb’s breath catches in his chest, as he marvels once more at how stunning his lover looks. He nods.

Bending slightly, Essek puts his hand on Caleb’s throat and presses gently, and Caleb shivers, his eyes fluttering close. He feels a push on his chin and looks up quizzically to see a hand motioning him to stand up. As he obeys, Essek pulls him closer and, with a now-familiar wave of arcane energy, lifts him up, grasping Caleb’s hips. Caleb wraps his legs around his waist and purrs as Essek nips at his neck and squeezes his ass to slap it once, twice, three times… With a shudder, Caleb presses his body against Essek’s, kissing along his ear. The swats aren’t as hard as they were before, and Caleb shivers slightly at the thought that they _could_ be, but they don’t need to be, the rough touch still delightfully biting. Eager lips and tongue explore his throat, and pointed teeth sink into the soft spot that pulses with the beating of Caleb’s heart, biting hard enough to bruise, almost hard enough to draw blood, as if seeking to confirm his vitality, his warm presence, the buzzing life force flowing through his veins. And it’s the _almost_ of it all, that surrender of entrusting someone to take him to the edge of danger and guide him through it, of being able to be furious, to be small, to make all these shameless sounds that does him in, and oh, he is fully hard and throbbing again, increasingly desperate for attention that he knows won’t be coming for a while. Essek grins, satisfied, no doubt feeling the familiar pressure against his belly.

“Well, now that this is taken care of, time for you to get back on your knees, Widogast.”

Loathe to leave the warm embrace, but excited for what is yet to come, Caleb obeys, kneeling and nuzzling his face against Essek’s thigh. The drow smirks, clearly getting ready to go back into his more vicious headspace, and he presses the head of his cock into the readily open lips. Caleb adjusts to the sensation, to breathing through his nose, Essek’s scent grounding him, and he closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the touch of deft fingers running through his hair again, gently petting his scalp. This is good, it feels good, he can feel the fondness in the little affectionate gesture, and it brings the rest of his confidence back. He takes Essek in deeper and drags his tongue along the underside of his cock. _Ready when you are_ , he thinks, revelling in the shaky intake of air.

Essek thrusts in as deep as he can, and Caleb beams to himself as he calms his breath in no time, shooting his lover a daring look. A tug at his hair drags a moan from deep in his chest, and he sees, feels, _tastes_ what effect the vibrations have on the standing man.

“I thought I had broken you in already,” Essek snarls, but his voice is a little strained, “but if you need to be put in your place again, I can do that for you, farm boy.”

Caleb huffs provocatively, and he gets his wish – Essek’s hand rises, slowly enough for him to prepare and slacken his jaw, and there’s a crack and a blooming heat on his cheek that makes his eyes water just a little bit. Essek pauses at that to whisper “Light?”, and Caleb, unsure of what he should do, nods ever so slightly, which seems to put the drow at ease.

“Well, well, well. No teeth as you get bitch slapped, huh? Colour me impressed. Seems like you have had plenty of practice in this. I was right in my guess that this is how you have earned your spells, huh, you little slut?”

He tugs his hair again at that, harder this time, and Caleb squeezes his eyes shut, groaning in mock indignation.

“It’s a shame though. I decided I would whip you if I felt even a hint of teeth, and I must say I enjoyed your pitiful whines earlier,” he continues and the heat in Caleb’s belly flares even stronger. “But I guess this will have to do. Back to work, Widogast.”

And Caleb does indeed get to work, hell-bent on breaking this infuriating composure, on earning a sign of pleasure from his lover’s cold persona. He licks slowly up and down his shaft, trails his tongue over the weeping head, then takes Essek’s full length as deep as he can. He withdraws in shallow little waves, taking his sweet time until he reaches the head again and worries the base of it with his mouth and tongue.

“Vith’ez uoi’notan,” Essek moans, his voice breathy and low. “I must say, I’ve been told that Zemnian sluts were good at this, and by the Luxon they weren’t kidding. I think we have found something you are good for, Empire boy.”

This shouldn’t feel so good, this backhanded compliment from a cocky Xhorhassian shit, but it does, so much better than what he said before. Caleb grunts feverishly, so unlike himself and takes Essek deep into his throat again, steadying his breath and daring the drow with his eyes to push his limits. The look in Essek’s eyes is downright feral, sending a shiver down his spine. He can tell that the mage is more than happy to accept the invitation.

“Showing off, are you? We’ll see about that. Put your hand on my thigh.”

Caleb obeys, shaking with anticipation.

“Tap once when you have had enough.”

Once? Is Essek testing his memory? It was two taps for pause, three for stop immediately… He studies Essek’s face with a puzzled frown, and gets a wink in response. Oh! Oh... Caleb wonders, like he often does during sex, if Essek secretly _can_ read his mind. Pushing his limits indeed. He huffs indignantly again, in lieu of confirmation.

He barely has the time to breathe in again when Essek pushes deep into his throat and tightens two fingers on both sides of his nose, nonchalantly, not even using his thumb. It sends a momentary jolt of panic through Caleb’s entire body, but his cock twitches needily at the same time. He meets Essek’s eyes, and he can see that though his face remains impassive, he is watching Caleb’s every movement intently and listening in for any signs of distress. He grips his thigh but doesn’t tap, not yet. This is a challenge, and it makes Caleb’s body thrum with excitement, blood rushing through his veins and beads of sweat rolling down his back. He is running out of air though, and if his guess is correct, he needs to save some extra. He makes a show of it, pretending to pull away and releasing a strangled sound before tapping Essek’s thigh _once_. Essek hesitates for a second, but he must see something calm in Caleb’s body or an understanding on his face because he looks at him hungrily, almost predatorily and _doesn’t_ let go for exactly five more seconds. Once he’s done, Caleb can’t help but pull completely away, gasping for breath and struggling to steady it as it comes back, his eyes watering yet again.

“Are you done showing off now?” Essek chuckles towering over him.

“Ja” Caleb rasps, and he’s surprised by another burst of electrifying sting radiating through his cheek, followed by a delicious blooming heat.

“Do not speak to me in that awful tongue. Answer my question properly.”

“Siyo,” Caleb hisses in drow, bracing for what is sure to come.

 _Crack!_ He wasn’t wrong, but the slap comes from the right again, and he wobbles on his knees. He lifts himself up shakily, doing his best to straighten his back.

“Clearly you were _not_ done showing off. So you speak a civilized language. Congratulations. Now answer my question in common, like the commoner you are.”

“Yes,” his voice is still a hiss, but it soon turns into a gasp. That slap was unexpected.

“Yes – what?” Essek asks smugly, crouching to look Caleb in the eye.

“Yes, Shadowhand,” Caleb whispers and oh, Essek reacts with his entire body.

“Good,” he says, straightening up. “I believe that means you have lost. And as the victor, I have gained the right to leave my mark on you. You will suck me to completion, then I will come on your face. Do you feel honoured?”

Caleb doesn’t reply, bracing for another slap, but it doesn’t come.

“You will,” Essek says with a chuckle, then presses the head of his cock into Caleb’s mouth for the third time tonight.

Making sure to give him one of his best fiery looks, Caleb gets back to work with redoubled enthusiasm. He revels in Essek’s moans, his animalistic grunts as he grabs the sides of his head and just fucks into his mouth, while Caleb does his best to suck around him. He leaves his mouth open as Essek pulls out and with three rapid strokes comes all over his face in violent hot spurts. He only closes his mouth when he is sure that Essek is watching, and he holds his gaze as he swallows.

“You look half-decent like this,” Essek muses, doing his best to sound cool and distant, but his breathy voice and the fact he is leaning heavily on the shelves give him away. “I am tempted to let you come too.”

Caleb’s excitement, fuelled by the aching throb of his cock, betrays him in turn, as he looks up at Essek and oh, he must look hopeful, because the drow laughs.

“Or at least, I want to see you _try_.”

* * *

It all seems suspicious. Sat in the soft armchair, a new vial of oil in his hand, Caleb eyes Essek incredulously, searching his features for a hint of what is really going on. For now, he’s been told to slick his palm and have at it, which is way too easy, too good to be true, and frankly – a little boring. He _is_ desperate to come, but he hoped for a final twist to this game, one last touch of debasement.

Essek, for his part, perches on the desk and watches him expectantly, his eyebrows raised, just the hint of a smirk on his lips. His eyes travel up and down Caleb’s naked body, to then land on his face and stay there, waiting.

Starved for touch, Caleb palms himself, and relief hits him like a wave, all of his expectations forgotten. _Finally_ , his body screams at him, _finally, finally!_ He has no patience to savour it, to build it up slowly; he gets right down to work stroking himself furiously, the tension building rapidly, closer, ever closer, almost there…

He practically sobs at the deep feeling of betrayal as his pleasure fades, the release he yearns for slipping from his grasp. He snaps out of initial shock, and works his wrist like a madman, chasing the ebbing tide of bliss that seemed so close a moment ago. It doesn’t work, and he slumps against the back of the chair, tears stinging his eyes. This is so unfair, so devious! His whole body aches for release, and yet, a warm cloud of calm surrender hits his mind. He can take it. He is ready for what Essek wants to put him through. He meets the drow’s gaze, determined.

“There you are. I thought you were going to fall apart. This is a welcome surprise.”

Words are impossible in his current state, so he says nothing, simply focusing on those bright golden eyes.

“It’s a fascinating enchantment. You might notice that you still have the ability to feel pain, so as much as it would amuse me, you won’t chafe or scratch yourself by accident. Go ahead, try it.”

Caleb’s curiosity is, apparently, too great to be silenced by lust or submission, so he does press the tip of his nail ever so gently on his shaft and winces. It only withholds pleasure, then. Fascinating indeed.

“I would like to see if it’s possible to come while under its influence. You will be the subject of my experiment.”

Caleb releases a weak sigh, but he _is_ eager to learn, to prove that it is possible. _That is a thought only an arcanist could have in this situation_ , he thinks to himself with a quiet huff of laughter. He reaches back to tentatively press on the flower, and hums a weak moan. So it only works on the part it’s applied to. Good to know.

Soon, he feels a change, a quiet hum of readiness returning to his cock. He takes in a deep breath and rubs himself, this time slowly, languidly, building up to a pleasant ache. It takes all of his self-control not to rut desperately into the soft fabric below him, but he resists the urge, working methodically, controlling his breath. He _screams_ his anger when the climax eludes him once again.

When he regains feeling, an electric buzz of want returning to him like a hot breeze, he forces himself to string together a cohesive sentence.

“Will you touch me?”

Essek’s eyebrows rise, and his satisfied smile makes Caleb’s blood boil.

“Oh, I’m just an observer. But, by all means, feel free to touch yourself wherever and however you want.”

With a low growl, Caleb closes his eyes and does just that, scratching his own chest, squeezing his own throat, pulling his own hair, imagining Essek’s hands all over him. He clenches around the flower toy, focuses on the slowly fading throb of his ass, goes over the events of the night and imagines how utterly wrecked he must have looked at each point, how wrecked he must look now under his lover’s curious gaze. He waits until the urge is truly unbearable, and grabs himself firmly, his strokes quick and jerky, rough with desperation. He comes so close, his goal within an inch of his grasp, but once more, it all fades, leaving him empty.

Tears of frustration and relief fall down his cheeks with the next wave, and he palms himself right away, his grip rough and tight, drawing out a hiss of pain. The trick _must_ be that he needs to reach his peak through pain, it simply must be, nothing else makes sense. He proceeds, stifling a whimper by biting hard on his lip.

“Stop!”

The voice is unexpected, but there is an urgency behind it that has Caleb frozen still immediately.

“That is not how it works,” Essek explains, his voice slightly shaken. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Caleb lets go of his cock and lets his head fall back onto the back of the chair. His throat clenches unpleasantly, and he considers using his safe word, but with a deep shaky breath he perseveres.

“I like my toys in mint condition. Don’t you dare break,” Essek’s voice is calmer as he moves closer to him, cool and authoritative.

With more tears spilling down his face, Caleb opens his eyes and abandons the last vestige of pride.

“Bit-please… please let me…”

Essek leans in close to his face and gives him a sweet smile, one that he doesn’t dare interpret as a sign of mercy.

“Beg.”

Without so much as a passing thought, he sinks to his knees and grabs the hem of Essek’s tunic in supplication.

“I beg you, Shadowhand, please let me come. Please.”

There is a hand in front of his mouth, and he immediately covers it with little kisses, his mind a mess of buzzing emotions and sensation with little room for thought. He feels soft fingers grab and lift his chin. He looks into Essek’s eyes and waits, hoping that perhaps soon…

“No.”

* * *

The face Caleb makes at that is _almost_ heart-breaking, but Essek waits, and he doesn’t hear anything resembling ‘ _dark’_ or even ‘ _dim’_ , so he just snaps his fingers, cleaning Caleb’s face of his now-dried up spend and turns his back to his desperate lover for a moment. From the desk drawer, he procures a vial of potion, humming happily to himself at having one more trick up his sleeve. He downs most of it – it tastes good, like a flowery wine – and looks back to Caleb. He is quite the sight, flushed all over, face streaked with tears, chest covered in red lines from his own nails, gorgeous fiery hair a disheveled mess, mouth wide open in disbelief. He probably wonders if he will get to come _at all_ , clinging to hope, to the trust he has in Essek. He still hasn’t used his safe word. Essek smiles indulgently at the wrecked redhead.

“Don’t give me that look, Widogast. You _will_ get to come. You have my permission to come on my cock.”

There is visible relief on Caleb’s face, and Essek has to resist the urge to kiss the silly man. _Of course_ , he will get to come. That is the whole point.

“That is, of course, unless you have forgotten your _manners_.”

“Th-thank you, Shadowhand,” comes the immediate answer.

“See, you _are_ learning. It is a meagre satisfaction to figure out the workings of a simple mind, but you might prove useful one day.”

“Thank you, Shadowhand,” Caleb replies again, clearly beyond shame at this point.

“Would you like some of this potion? It will neutralize the effects of the oil I had you use.”

“Yes, yes, please, Shadowhand, thank you, please...”

“You will have to take it from my lips then.”

He pours the rest of the potion onto his spread lips and leans in, and Caleb laps at his mouth, licking and sucking every last droplet. He allows himself one fond smile at the man.

“Are you grateful?”

“So grateful, Shadowhand, so grateful, thank you, thank you…” Caleb mutters at his feet, rubbing his head against his knee.

Essek grabs him by the harness and lifts him to look him in the eye.

“Then it’s a pity the potion doesn’t work that way. I just need to dispel the effect.”

Caleb opens his mouth in silent protest as Essek fights back a chuckle.

“Here, let me know if you feel anything.”

He looks Caleb in the eye and palms his own cock. There is no verbal confirmation and there doesn’t need to be, as Caleb keens, arching into nothing, into Essek’s absent hand, his body wracked by shudders.

“There. You have learnt something new again. My, I am being generous today.”

There are no thanks this time, Caleb’s jaw still slackened, panting breaths escaping his chest. Essek doesn’t push, and simply crooks a finger at him, prompting him to stand.

* * *

There is no need to push Caleb down on the desk this time. Instead, he feels himself become lighter again, his weight lifted off his wobbly knees, and he sighs a grateful ‘thank you’, affectionately leaning back into Essek’s hips. He shivers at the welcome touch of skin, warm and smooth against his, and his eyes flutter closed as he waits. He will get to come. He doesn’t have to work for it anymore. He gives in completely, his body available for his lover to use.

He whimpers a broken sob as he feels Essek pull the rosebud out of his hole, which spasms desperately, reaching for something to fill it, but he waits. Essek has him. He trusts him. He will get to come.

“You know, I hope, for your sake, that you _are_ enjoying this, you greedy little slut. Otherwise, you really _are_ selling your body for your spell book. Just like I said.”

Caleb murmurs a string of nonsense syllables, truly beyond caring. Essek can have his spell book. He can call him any names he wants. He just wants to come.

He feels a gentle touch on his cheek and opens his eyes just enough to anchor his mind to reality.

“Light, darling?”

“Bright,” he manages to whisper. He wants to add how bright, how _physically_ bright his whole body feels, radiating with need and love and want, but he can’t, so he just closes his eyes again and waits.

His eyes shoot back open as Essek thrusts into his hole, and a wave of sensation crashes down onto his body. It’s not just the welcome stretch, the friction of Essek’s cock against his walls, no, those feelings are blissful, ecstatic, but familiar. It’s that he can feel his own warmth and slickness and the little spasms of want around his own cock. It’s amazing. It’s heavenly. It’s divine.

“You’re welcome, Widogast,” he hears, chuckled against his ear, and he yells as Essek thrusts, deeper and deeper, picking up pace, enveloping Caleb’s body in devastating pleasure from both sides.

He feels his mind floating away, suspended in an endless expanse, soft light shining onto him, or is it out of him? His body is utterly powerless, dissolved into a mere receptor of feeling, more feeling, friction and slickness and warmth, and suddenly all of his nerves sing, higher and higher. He seizes up, clenching around Essek, around himself, spilling heat in bursts from and into himself, with a broken moan that melds with Essek’s. They are truly one in this moment, and Caleb feels more tears flowing freely down his face. He trembles, thankful for Essek’s warm presence around him, and he sobs, happy and light on his feet.

“Ich liebe dich so sehr! Ich liebe dich über alles!”

He sounds so broken, so vulnerable, wide open for Essek to reach in and pull his heart out of his chest. But he is ready. His heart belongs to Essek. He can take it and do with it as he pleases.

“I love you too, Caleb. I love you so much,” Essek’s voice is warm, fond, a little wet, the cocky little shit gone without a trace. “So much. I have a surprise for you, ssinssrig. Do you want to know what it is?”

Caleb nods weakly, doing his best to press his body into Essek’s, to lean into the feather-light kisses that he trails on his neck.

“I haven’t dispelled that enchantment yet. That orgasm was mine. Would you like to feel yours?”

His breath catches in his chest, and he realizes that indeed, as wondrous as his release felt, there is no emptiness, no looseness, his cock still straining against his belly. He nods again, hoping that Essek will catch him when his legs inevitably crumble beneath him.

“Y-yes, Liebling. Please.”

There is a whisper, and a poof of energy, and then it happens. He climaxes once, twice, three times, and finally feels release, his spend shooting, then dripping onto the floor.

“Ich liebe…” he begins, but he can’t finish, and he wraps his arms around Essek’s neck, nuzzling into him, drinking in his warmth, as his feet leave the ground.

“I love you too, _ykrel_.”

* * *

It isn’t easy to free Caleb from his leather harness, to hold his almost liquid body in his arms, but it is his duty now to take care of him, to attend to his exhaustion and his aches. _It’s your duty_ , he tells himself, ignoring both his own encroaching fatigue and the thoughts that tell him that the correct word is ‘need’, that he _yearns_ to hold Caleb close and to protect him with his life if need be. He forces himself to snap all the messes out of existence, then presses his lips to Caleb’s neck and gathers all his energy to focus on the spell.

The bright flash of teleportation dissolving into the welcome darkness of their bedroom, he feels his abilities drained almost to the last droplet, and prays he won’t stumble and fall as he brings Caleb’s limp body to bed. He lays him down as gently as he can, and his heart swells with the sweetest ache when he hears the needy sound his fragile human makes as his hands leave his body.

“I’m here, darling, I’m here, give me just a second,” he promises, his throat weirdly tight, and he rushes to lie down and press his body to Caleb’s, to feel his warmth and wrap his arms around him. His breath catches in his chest as Caleb slowly turns to hide his face in the crook of his neck. It’s almost too much.

He waits to hear the soft purr of Caleb’s snoring, and finally lets himself trance. Images flash before his eyes, memories of moments spent together. The first time he saw Caleb. The courage that radiated from him as he held the beacon high above his head in the throne room. Countless hours they spent hunched over tomes. The twinkle in his eyes when he succeeded, the stubborn set of his jaw when he failed. The unbridled joy that lit up his face as they figured out a way to bring his little friend back to her proper form. Their first kiss. The desperate look he gave him as he said he wanted him to see the sunrise, the pain in his eyes that made Essek’s world collapse entirely, and the kiss he laid on his forehead that gave him the tiniest shred of hope. The first kiss that he laid on his lips after it was all over, which had Essek sobbing at Caleb’s feet and begging, gentle reassurances be damned. Their first night together. The first time he said the words, the most important words he could ever say to anyone, _“Dos ph’ussta ssinssrigg, Caleb”_ , _you are my love_. The twinge of regret that he felt when he realized Caleb was already asleep by then, then the panic as his voice came back, the meaning obscured by the foreignness of Zemnian, except ‘liebe’, that word, that meant ‘love’, didn’t it? How impossibly beautiful Caleb’s smile was the next morning, when he managed to say “I love you” in common, and Caleb replied so easily. The events of this night, Caleb on his knees, Caleb at his mercy, Caleb’s bright blue eyes filled with a multitude of emotions, but never devoid of trust.

When he gets out of his trance, Caleb is still fast asleep. He is pinning his right arm to the bed, somewhat painfully, but Essek dares not move it from underneath him. He takes this moment to kiss the top of the human’s head, rest his chin on the mane of disheveled hair and whisper all the things that he still finds hard to say sometimes when they are both awake.

“Dos quanth ussta xukuth ji mzilt, Caleb Widogast. Usstan zhahus noamuth xuileb dos, lu’ler’griff ssiggrin nindel sekene hiran tremuee uns’aa, nin zhah nindel uss tangi, usstan orn noa dos. Lu’usstan xuat ssinssrin ulu. Usstan xuat ssinssrin dos ulu sevir.”

He tries to blink back the tears welling up in his eyes, but they fall, one after the other, as he fights to steady his breath.

“I don’t know what you meant when you talked about me leaving, but I am in no shape to do that, Schatz.”

The laugh that escapes his lips is still a little wet, but he can’t help but smile and press another kiss to Caleb’s forehead. He wipes his face quickly before remembering that the human can’t see him in the inky darkness of the room.

“Would you like something to drink, ssin’urn?” he asks, feigning casualness.

“Ja, bitte _…_ I’m parched.”

With a poof, globules of amber light appear, one after the other, bathing the room in warmth and making Caleb’s messy hair burn bright. Once again, Essek is grateful for dark, discreet skin. He focuses and time unfreezes over the nearby table with a gust, like a long held breath finally released. Yellow roses lazily stretch their petals, steam rises over the teapot, and pleasant smells make their way over towards them.

“I have water with fruit, wine, Caduceus’s herbal tea, and hot chocolate,” he offers, beaming with pride. “I also have food. Different kinds. Tell me what you’d like.”

The look of surprise on Caleb’s face is immensely rewarding.

“You have outdone yourself, Schatz.”

Essek can’t help but preen a bit at that.

“This isn’t my first life, darling.”

“Thought you said it _was._ ”

He rolls his eyes. _Humans_. “It’s a figure of speech. It sounds better in drow. Thank you though, it took me a while to get right.”

“But you’ve made so much! I don’t want your hard work to go to waste!”

Essek’s smile fades slightly.

“I didn’t _make_ it. I suppose I could have, but with all the spells I had to prepare and the oils…”

He is silenced with a gentle kiss.

“It’s perfect, Schatz. I love it.”

“Also, it’s not going to go to waste. I can freeze and unfreeze each item at will for the next twelve hours. And let me tell you, that spell took me a _while_ ,” he stresses gesturing theatrically.

“So, theoretically,” Caleb purrs, cat-like and impossibly adorable, “we could stay in bed all day and just take whatever we please?”

Essek chuckles. “That is the idea.”

“With books?”

“Of course.”

He can’t help but kiss the smile that lights up Caleb’s face.

“Now what would you like?”

“A glass of water, and a cup of hot chocolate, bitte. And, Schatz?”

“Mm?” Essek hums, already busy pouring the beverages.

“When you said ‘freeze’, I had a thought… You don’t happen to have ice cream over there, do you?”

He grins to himself.

“What flavour would you like?”

* * *

“It’s nine o’clock,” Caleb announces casually, perpetually surprised at how calm and relaxed he’s been throughout their lazy morning.

They’ve been going over last night’s events, feeding various pieces of fruit to each other and sipping on hot tea.

“Well, obviously,” Essek quips, gesturing towards the inky darkness behind their bedroom window.

Caleb chuckles.

“And are you sure I didn’t go too far with any of my comments?”

“Not at all,” he reassures, winding a grape through the air towards Essek’s lips. “You really hit the spot. Well except, you know…”

“I know,” Essek says with a wince. “I’m really sorry about that. You are amazing at giving head. Your mouth is heavenly, and your tongue is the stuff of legends.”

“Ja, okay, I get it, I get it,” he laughs, but there is one thing still weighing on him. “I um… I’m really sorry about not tapping out.”

Instantly, there are soft fingers caressing his cheek. He leans into the warm palm.

“You are brilliant, beautiful and kind. I love you and your feelings are important. Always.”

“I know, Schatz.”

“If I’m about to have the orgasm of a lifetime, and you need to use your safe word, you do it.”

That brings a quiet laugh out of him, but he nods solemnly.

“Yes, Liebling. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, but I trust you not to hurt yourself.”

Essek’s face is so intense that Caleb has to look down and just nods, guilt tugging at his chest.

“Ssin’urn? Look at me.”

He obeys, his cheeks warming.

“Du beest so shaun!”

He bursts out laughing, uncontrollable giggles overtaking his body as he falls back onto the pillows.

“What… Did I say something dumb?”

“I’m a beast, am I?” Caleb wheezes. “And my name is Shaun?”

It takes him a moment, but he manages to stifle his laughter somehow, giving the embarrassed drow a fond look.

“I’m sorry, Schatz. I appreciate the compliment.”

He can see Essek holding back a sarcastic reply, but in the end, he only sighs.

“I guess professor Widogast will have to give me extra lessons on Zemnian.”

Caleb quirks an eyebrow and grins.

“But I thought young master Thelyss _hated_ Zemnian? Couldn’t stand the sound of it?”

Essek grins back, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, but that’s a wonderful reason for him to defy his professor and say one too many a rude thing.”

“You might be onto something, here,” he says, catching the dark lips in a kiss. They taste of raspberries.

“But not today, right?”

“No, not today. I doubt I could um… rise to the occasion, so to speak,” he admits with a blush.

“Then what do you want to do now?”

Caleb pauses to think, and moves behind Essek’s back.

“Guess what spell I’m transcribing.”

Essek huffs in mock indignation.

“You need _high quality_ paper and ink for that.”

“Don’t you know I have magic fingers?” he laughs, trailing an arcane shape along Essek’s spine. “And besides, you are very high quality.”

Another huff. “And you are incredibly corny!”

“Hollaaa!” Caleb chuckles and smooches the dark shoulder.

“Am I to understand that you’ve just left an inkblot on my high quality surface?” Essek asks, unable to hide a grin.

“My apologies. Let me erase it,” Caleb purrs and runs his tongue over smooth warm skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> **Drow glossary:**
> 
> chath solen – fire eyes  
> ssin’urn – beautiful  
> ssinssrig – love  
> mal’ai – idiot  
> vith – fuck  
> vith’ez uoi’notan – fucking hells  
> ykrel – spark  
> Essek’s words at night: “You fill my heart so much, Caleb Widogast. I was lost without you, and the only thought that truly terrifies me now is that one day, I will lose you. And I don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave.” 
> 
> **Zemnian glossary:**
> 
> Du kleines Arschloch! – You little asshole!/jerk!  
> Schatz – honey, darling, treasure  
> Danke schön – thank you very much  
> Ich liebe dich so sehr! Ich liebe dich über alles! – I love you so much! I love you more than anything!  
> Liebling – darling, honey, favourite  
> What Essek was trying to say: “Du bist so schön.” – You are so beautiful.


End file.
